The very famous couple strolled calmly past
while we sat outside at small wrought iron tables,
They walked with the practiced ease of two
who had been together for many years,
and were long accustomed to being noticed,
he rawboned and weathered by design,
she a natural and unassuming beauty,
a local girl who we liked to claim as our own.
We had seen their movies on this very street,
seen their faces ten feet tall, passionately kissing.
We glanced up again as they moved past,
their large white shopping bags rocking gently
at their sides as their figures grew smaller.
"Did you see who that was?," someone asked.
Years later, we read that they had divorced,
heard the ugly rumors of drunkenness
and infidelity, police being called at all hours,
the kids being placed elsewhere to live.
We were right, I suppose, not to have said hello.
We were right to simply let them pass.
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